


It's A Hard Noct Life

by SpitfireRose



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Being Noct is suffering, Everyone blames themselves, Hurt/Comfort, Iggy and Prom have to patch him up and it's not a fun time, Ignis provides that sweet validation, In which Gladio isn't around and Noct gets seriously injured, Noct just wants to sleep, Prompto takes it terribly, there's some blood and mentions of scarring? Nothing awful
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-17 09:28:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11848725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpitfireRose/pseuds/SpitfireRose
Summary: Gladiolus leaves the party to get stronger, and it's a struggle to adjust without the big guy having their backs.





	It's A Hard Noct Life

**Author's Note:**

> Piece inspired by Kaciart's drawing of Noct crying while Iggy and Prom do their best to heal him. http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/163650643813

Noct’s crying.

There’s no way Prompto can’t hear the restrained sniffles that escape the tough guise Noctis tries his damndest to keep up as he’s stretched out on his stomach across the Regalia’s backseat. The Advisor isn’t immune to the heart wrenching weeping either, gloved hands grasping the steering wheel so hard that he knows his shaking knuckles must be white beneath bloodied leather.

Prompto’s fair skin isn’t spared the crimson either, currently placing pressure against the nasty slashes that bleed through the spare shirt Ignis had ordered him to fetch while he had settled a distressed Noct in his late father’s car. The garment had been one of Gladio’s, a taboo subject to bring up, but one that clouds their thoughts like a heavy fog. Their perfectly functioning party of four was now an unbalanced trio painfully struggling to adapt without the powerhouse of a Shield.

“We’re almost there, buddy, promise. We’ll get you patched up right away, okay?” Prompto doesn’t expect a response out of him, hurting all the more when Noct only mumbles incoherently through a heaving hiccup.

The blond reaches for his hand that grips the seat like a lifeline through the unforgiving pain, lacing fingers together in a silent prayer to the Six for it to bring him comfort. It’s heartbreaking enough that  _he’s hurting_  Noctis while helping, and he bites down particularly hard on his bottom lip as the car hits a bump in the road causing Noctis to cry out. Prompto wants so damn bad to let the pressure up, to ease his suffering, but he  _can’t_. All he can do is repeat himself like a broken record that they’ll be at the outpost’s motel soon, that Noct’ll be alright.

* * *

Prompto honestly doesn’t remember Ignis practically swerving in front of their motel room’s door, and he doesn’t want to remember Noct’s sharp whimpers of sheer agony from the daunting task of maneuvering him out of the Regalia.

He’ll remember them enough in his frequent nightmares.

“See? We made it, Noct, just like I promised.” He still holds Noct’s hand in his own while supporting most his weight, Ignis unable to open the door fast enough before sprinting over to their sparse stock of medical supplies.

Simple tasks are ordered as Ignis improvises, keeping Prompto grounded and his head on as Noct nearly loses his when the gunner carefully strips him of the remnants of his shirt. The stench of blood hits him fully, making the mistake of seeing the ugly, jagged claw lines sliced across the pale expanse of his back, courtesy of the rabid coeurl clan. He’s grateful that Noct has his eyes squeezed impossibly tight, knowing damn well his charade of calm would have shattered to nothingness if he had so much as glimpsed up at him.

“Bed’s right here for you, buddy, nice and comfy. Iggy and I need you to sit, can you do that for us?” Prompto’s never spoken so softly, so gently in a tone typically reserved for easing his chocobo through a tough patch of terrain.

Noctis  _tries._

It takes both Ignis and Prompto to help him up onto the mattress and into a sitting position that leaves his back exposed, barred for both to see as he’s pathetically curled inwards with shoulders hunched in. Noctis shivers, tears flowing freely down pallid cheeks as his expression tries to steel itself once more, bracing for the inevitable.

Prompto can’t do this. He _can’t._

He swears by the Six he sees that same hesitation flash across Ignis’s face when their eyes meet, watery cerulean to steady seafoam green. The Advisor nods only once as he takes a seat at the foot of the bed, bandages and curative solution at the ready as Prompto pulls himself together to be the best friend Noctis needs and deserves before taking the spot in front of him.

“Noct? Hey, can you hear me? Iggy’s going to start patching you up, and I’m right here, okay?”  The blond soothes, tenderly clasping Noct’s hand in both of his with an assuring squeeze, thumb brushing over knuckles as their foreheads touch. “I’m not leaving you for a moment, Noctis. You can tell me that it hurts, it’s alright. I’m right here.”

It hurts the second Ignis applies the first stretch of bandage coated with a calculated combination of potion and antidote, healing sensation more like burning his skin with how it stings the open wound like salt. Prompto witnesses everything, how Noct’s lips twitch and tremble from trying to keep the sobs at bay, nose crinkling in attempts to breathe through obstructed nostrils, leaning so far forward that he may as well fall into Prompto’s lap in reflex to escape the source of further pain. Maybe he’s giving into his best friend’s offer at admitting that  _it hurts_  or he can’t hold anything back any longer as the whimpers transform into strangled gasps of pure pain, sounding reminiscent of a vulnerable child crying out for anyone to hear. Their names are pleaded within the cries, Gladio’s nearly choked out until remembered with a chilling hitch. Noct’s terrified of being abandoned, squeezing with all his dwindled strength as if Prompto will vanish if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“Iggy and I got you, buddy. Just a little longer.” An uneasy smile graces his features, hoping it’ll curb the tears that threaten to burst through at the sight of Noct breaking down as yet another bandage is added, crushing the life out of his fingers. The extensive injuries are scarred into Prompto’s memory, he knows full well that it’ll be far from a little while, but maybe by remaining calm it’ll seem over sooner.

It doesn’t.

    Prompto promises him that he’ll get to sleep as long as he wants.

* * *

Noctis manages to remain conscious throughout the grueling process before his head slumps down beneath Prompto’s chin and stays there. The gunner can’t bring himself to move, having only the energy to wrap an arm around Noct’s shoulders in a semblance of a hug and burying his face in the nest of disheveled raven hair. The exhaustion is overwhelming as it hits Prompto all at once, his next breaths on the dangerous verge of crying into the messy locks.

“It’d be best to lie down and rest.” Ignis speaks up for the first time since directing Prompto around from what feels like a lifetime ago. The blond nods slowly, not ready to let Noctis go but does anyway, the Advisor so professional in adjusting the Prince into a more comfortable sleeping arrangement as if done hundreds of times prior. It’s not a peaceful sleep in the slightest at how he grimaces and whines in discomfort of movement, but Specs is right as always. Noct’s gonna need all the sleep he can get–no different than usual. Prompto immediately excuses himself to the bathroom, stumbling on numb legs and desperation to get there before his composure completely crumbles away in peace once behind the shut door.

He doesn’t even make to the toilet seat before sobbing, needlessly hiding his face in his hands as he finally, finally allows himself to breakdown. It’s too  _much,_   _today_  has been  _too much_ –everything has been since Gladio’s departure. The bottle of emotions bursts forth like a geyser, concealed behind quaking palms.

_He had left the pack of coeurls be, assuming they’d be easily dispatched by the nonexistent swordsman. It’d been too late then, realization striking him that there was no Gladiolus, no Shield to protect Noctis as his friend’s haunting screams pierced through the air. There had been so much blood, both beast and human, he nearly puked at the very real possibility that Noct was dead and it was all his fault. Were it not for Ignis’s quick thinking as always, he would have been. And even then, he’d been powerless to ease Noct’s suffering. What if he’d started crying like he’d been on the edge of since the start? What if Noct broke off their friendship at nearly getting him killed? If they decided it best to ditch the burden of a blond, obvious the commoner would never have a place amongst them._

_Stupid. Idiot, useless, **worthless–**_

There’s a knock at the door, suddenly self-aware at just how loud he’s been. Prompto scrubs beneath his eyes with a fist, not trusting himself to speak at the second rapping of knuckles against wood.

“Prompto, a moment?” Ignis inquires from the other side, and the gunner exhales. “You’ve forgotten something.”

_Huh?_

Curiosity has him over to open the door to Ignis waiting patiently with a neatly folded bundle of garments held out for him. The only sign of exhaustion is in his eyes, weary and aged beyond his young adult years, offering the clothes easily recognized as his chocobo print pajamas.

“Perhaps I was unclear. I meant for you to lie down and rest as well.”

“Iggy, I’m  _fine, I_ –”

“After the events of today, I must disagree. You put Noct’s sanity as your top priority and remained level-headed throughout the ordeal. That is no easy feat, one that takes a great toll on one’s self, and I am quite proud of you for accomplishing it. Your determination to see Noct well gave me the strength to do what had to be done. I seem to have gravely misjudged your character, Prompto, as you are far stronger and a more positive influence on Noct than I had let myself believe. I don’t wish to dwell on the outcome had you not accompanied us.”

“ _Ig–_ ” He starts before halting, vision blurring as a fresh batch of tears makes it difficult to read the Advisor’s sincere expression. Prompto blinks, painfully aware that speaking will destroy the miracle of not crying before Ignis. Ignis Scientia knows as he practically knows everything, reading the blond like an open book whose spine hangs by a thread.

“Go on now, take a shower, and I’ll see what I can procure us all for dinner while you two get some much needed rest.” He spares Prompto any excess conversation, handing over the clothes before turning to get to work.

Ignis almost doesn’t catch the soft utterance of his name, followed by a delicate whisper of thanks.

* * *

Noctis cries in his sleep, too, muffled by the firm pillow he clutches like a child to a treasured teddy bear, arms wrapped tightly around it with face smothered in. It’s by some six sense that he detects Prompto gingerly taking a seat at his left, stretching out an arm in attempt to locate the blond without looking.

“‘m right here, buddy.” Prompto murmurs, taking the hand as his eyes skip over the thick healing gauze. “You alright if I–”

“ _Please_.” The hoarse strain of Noct’s voice does a number on his heart, and Prompto wastes no time in carefully crawling onto the bed as not to disturb the injuries. “ _Ig–Ignis?_ ”

“Cooking, I think.” Prompto settles in closer than usual, and Noct certainly doesn’t complain. “Want me to get him?”

Noctis nods in that sheepish way, a bit frantically, and the blond gently squeezes his hand as a promise to return. If he’s being honest with himself, he’d sleep better with Ignis, too.

* * *

The Advisor is preoccupied by assembling ingredients together, appearing more into the recipe than normal as Prompto approaches. There’s a subtle tremor of the utensils he holds, gaze beyond the written words, movements almost robotic as if on autopilot.

“Y’know, there  _is_  a Crow’s Nest across the street, and–”

“Noct requires me?”

“Man, how do you always  _know_? And yeah. He’s, uh, not the only one. Come on, Specs, you need rest, too. We all need each other after today, yeah?”

Ignis merely hums in response, impossible to decipher, but sets everything aside just the same.

* * *

The bed really isn’t meant for three, but there’s no denying the assuring comfort that being close to one another brings after a hell of a day. Noct is sandwiched in the middle, confined to lying on his stomach, but calm and content nonetheless. Prompto clings to him like a sloth to a tree, arm captured and hugged tightly with legs facing a similar tangled treatment. Ignis, typically reserved in bed, has a careful arm draped over the two, mindful of Noct who clings with a fistful of his nightshirt. He dreads the necessity of cleaning the bandages come later, an alarm set should he drift off.

It’s unbearably silent without Gladio’s snores.

He truthfully hasn’t slept since the swordsman had left to better himself, and he has a sneaking suspicion that Prompto picked up on it, adding onto the earlier conversation that the blond is far more observant than he lets on. There’s more that lies beneath the ceaseless cheery chatter, evident at how he couldn’t possibly be closer to Noct even if he tried. There’s desperation in his pose, and Ignis can’t shake the state he had unsurprisingly seen in the bathroom. It’s not Prompto’s fault at the botched Hunt, and the Advisor will carry the blame with him for as long as he lives.

They do need each other, now more than ever.

It’s a hard knock life without.


End file.
